


Green

by annabelledeery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, F/M, Family, Gen, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hogwarts, POV Harry Potter, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabelledeery/pseuds/annabelledeery
Summary: The Second War left its mark on the entire wizarding world — but no one more than Harry Potter.





	Green

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I decided to write a new work!  
> This will not have any more chapters. I was inspired by a tumblr textpost I read and wanted to delve further into it.  
> I think that the way the Second War would've affected Harry is far too overlooked in the fandom, so here is a depiction of what I believe Harry's life would be like after the war and how the people closest to him would help him manage his PTSD.  
> I am in no way a psychologist, this is just my take on it!  
> Also, I would like to mention that I do think Harry would experience these PTSD symptoms in canon, but there are parts that are not from the canon storyline. I have changed things to fit with the plot in my writing.  
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy!  
> -  
> [I have rated this Teen And Up Audiences for the sole fact that this deals with very serious topics, such as death, mental health and war. I believe that it may be too much for some audiences, hence the rating.]

**╔══════════════╗**

**_Green_ **

**╚══════════════╝**

Harry hated green.

He despised the color of his own eyes; emerald and striking. He'd look into the mirror and wince at the sight of his vibrant irises.

Green was a streak of electricity shot into the air; quicker than sound and brighter than the sun. It stunned whoever was nearest and stole the light from their eyes as they fell, away from the world. Away from Harry.

Green was death.

Harry was seldom found in public alone. He preferred facing the screaming faces with people by his side. One evening, Harry was due to the ministry for an interview, and Bill and Charlie were accompanying him there. They had reached the fountain that stood in front of the ministry building when a mob of people appeared out of nothing and came rushing towards them. Reporters shoved their ways to the front of the crowd and pulled out their large cameras. Flashes of light burst in front of Harry's eyes, and with every blink he saw green. A pale white hand grasping a wand, a blast of death erupting from it --

Overwhelmed with the visions, Harry's breath sped up and his heart's pounding reached his ears. He felt an anxiety attack building inside of him. Bill noticed Harry swaying and held his shoulders to keep him steady. Just as Bill began to rush him away from the throng, Harry saw Charlie, face contorted with rage, rip a camera from one of the reporters and chuck it in the fountain. Bill led Harry into a narrow space between two buildings, where Harry dropped to the floor, shaking violently from his toes to his head and gasping for air. He closed his moist eyes, but the green would not go, it kept flashing and flashing behind his eyelids --

"Breathe, Harry, it's okay, you're safe," Bill soothed in his deep, gravelly voice.

Bill and Charlie sat with him for hours until Harry's breathing had returned to normal and he was calm.

They cancelled the interview.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

The sun had already vanished into the night sky when Harry entered the Burrow, not wanting to return to Grimmauld Place by himself. Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs, face full of concern. Bill and Charlie explained the incident and that he'd like to stay with them for a night. Fat tears instantly welled in her chocolate eyes and she ran to Harry, pulling him into a warm, gentle embrace. He felt wetness form in his eyes as well as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his temple. "You will always have a home with us," she murmured into his ear.

She made Bill's old bedroom suitable for guests (Bill was living with Fleur in a small cottage), and Harry profusely insisted that he could use the couch. Molly told him firmly that Harry was to sleep in the bedroom, and Harry was only stopped when she quite literally shut the door in his face.

Harry woke up the next day at half past noon. He stared blearily at the ray of sunlight seeping in through the window, confused during his first few seconds of consciousness. It was strange getting uninterrupted sleep, which he had not achieved for months since the war. Once last night flooded back into his mind, he grabbed his glasses and left the bedroom. He met eyes with Ron and Hermione, who had just climbed down the stairs to his level together.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, a familiar joy radiating from her. But it soon grew smaller as she took in his disheveled, sleep deprived appearance.

"Hey Hermione," He said, returning a weak smile. "Hey Ron."

"Hey, mate," Ron replied, his freckled face morphing into a smile as well. "Wasn't expecting to see you today!"

"Yeah, er -- I didn't want to go to Grimmauld Place alone again," Harry said quietly.

Ron nodded and Hermione looked at him with a worried expression. Harry couldn't face her burning stare anymore and went down the steps to the kitchen, Ron and Hermione following shortly after him.

They entered the bright kitchen and Mrs. Weasley turned back to him. "Harry!" She beamed at him. "Did you get enough sleep?"

"Yeah," Harry said, yet she still rushed over to him and examined his face. "Honest, I slept fine!"

"Alright," she sighed, taking one last sweeping look at him before hurrying back to the stove. Harry saw Ron and Hermione exchange looks in the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, a loud knock sounded from the door. Mrs. Weasley set down her mitt and pulled open the door, revealing a Percy Weasley standing in the leaves outside, horn rimmed glasses and all.

"Percy!" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"Hello mum," Percy said timidly. He looked from Mrs. Weasley, to Hermione, to Ron and finally he rested on Harry. "I came to tell you something."

Harry was momentarily speechless with shock, and he felt the gazes of the others pierce him. "Me?"

"Yes."

Percy stood in the doorway, fidgeting awkwardly and not quite able to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry about the letter I sent Ron," he said quickly.

Harry blinked and merely looked at Percy, taken aback. The air was intensely silent except for an occasional whistle of the wind or rustle of a fir.

Without another glance at Harry, Percy bid goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, and promptly walked down the pathway leaving the Burrow.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

Harry ended up staying at the Burrow longer than just a night.

He was starting to become more familiar with the place than he already was; Bill's room had become Harry's and no one questioned why Harry had become resident at the Weasley home. They all knew why.

Harry was family.

Ron and Hermione were not shy with their relationship; Hermione was staying at the Burrow as well, and since they had made it official they were dating, they had spent much more time together, with the family or alone. Harry still talked to them every day, but he had a considerable extra amount of time to himself, which he did not mind. He loved them more than anything in the world, but sometimes he just needed to lay on his bed and lose himself in the golden light spilling from the window.

George rarely left his bedroom. Everyone accepted that no one was to bother him as he grieved the half of him that he'd lost in the war. Which is why, two weeks since he had arrived, Harry had to use all of his strength to not gasp as he saw George open his bedroom door at one am.

George wordlessly sat down on the ground across from the bed. Harry looked at George's averted, bloodshot eyes, waiting for an explanation. They sat in silence for a few minutes that lasted centuries.

"How do you do it?" George finally said with a thick, hoarse voice.

"Er -- do what?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Live with all of these deaths."

Harry took a second to speak. "I'm not very good at it. I'm not really the right person to talk to about dealing with death."

George let out a short laugh. It was not his once cheery, humorous laugh; Harry felt the weight of the pain behind it crush him. "You've been doing it since you were one. You're good at it, Harry."

Harry searched for the right words. "Well -- I just surround myself with friends when I want to, and, er, take some time to myself too. It's really difficult, but -- but I try to remember the good memories with them," Harry finished, feeling stupid and unhelpful.

George stared intently at Harry's shoes dangling off the bed.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out.

George looked up. "What?"

"About Fred," he saw George wince at the sound of his name. "He wouldn't have died if it weren't for the war. He wouldn't have died if Voldemort didn't want me. And I know that--"

"Stop," George commanded, and Harry instantly fell silent. "It's not your fault. You're kidding yourself if you think anyone was responsible other than Voldemort."

Harry looked down to his hands resting in his lap. "I'm not much help."

"You're great help," George told him, rising from the floor. "Thanks."

Harry's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. "Oh -- uh, no problem."

With that, George left the room soundlessly, except for the soft _click_ of the door shutting.

That night sparked something between the two. They grew closer together; they talked more during meals, and even occasionally spent time together by themselves. Words were not necessary during their times alone, because there was an underlying understanding between the pair.

They both knew what it was like to feel so alone.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

Harry took July and three weeks of August off of work at the Ministry, as his most recent anxiety attack with Bill and Charlie had changed something inside of him. Some days he joined in with some of the conversation over dinner, and then other days his throat sealed shut and he could only push the food around on his plate during meals.

Harry started to notice a pattern where on the days he couldn't eat breakfast, Ron would come into his room every few hours or so with a steamy cup of tea. When supper would arrive, it was always served with Harry's favorite dessert, treacle tart. The smell of fresh bread and golden syrup was so wonderful he simply couldn't resist devouring the warm delight.

He discovered the source of this mystery when one evening a month later, where Harry heard Ron from the other room asking Mrs. Weasley to make treacle tart for supper. Harry's pancakes had been left uneaten that morning, and Ron had been delivering tea all day.

Mrs. Weasley obliged, and Ron walked into the living room where Harry resided as Mrs. Weasley began preparing dinner.

"Oh, hey, Harry--"

"You've been the one making me eat."

Ron's ears turned scarlet. "Uh--yeah, yeah I have. But Harry, look, you need to eat. I get that it's been tough lately, I do, but I can't just let you starve, mate."

Harry looked at his best friend, who was staring back at him with a nervous yet determined look.

"Your mum makes a great treacle tart," Harry said.

Relief washed over Ron's face and he grinned. "Yeah, yeah she does."

Harry returned a smile; it was real, and the sincerity of it felt foreign to his face.

That night, the entirety of the Weasley family (even George joined them) enjoyed treacle tart in the living room, talking and laughing among each other to keep the spirits high.

"So, you and Ginny'll be off to Hogwarts again soon, won't you?" Mr. Weasley said to Hermione.

"Yeah, only a week left," Hermione told him. "We've got all our school things ready. It'll be strange, being back at Hogwarts after all this.."

"I imagine it will be," Mr. Weasley agreed soberly. "Harry?"

Harry pulled his other foot back to reality. "What?" Harry said, returning to Earth. He had gotten barely two hours of sleep that night.

"We were all discussing taking a short trip to Hogwarts when Hermione and Ginny set off for school," Mr. Weasley said. "Minerva has approved you and Ron staying in the staff dormitory for a week if you'd like. How would that sound?"

"That would be great," Harry replied.

"Are you sure that you'll be.. comfortable, staying there again?" Mr. Weasley asked, caution in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry told him, half truthfully. He really didn't know how he would feel being back at Hogwarts, what memories it would bring back... but he'd like to try.

Hermione delved into a rant about how she was preparing for her N.E.W.T.s and what lessons she would be taking, and Harry fell back into a half conscious state. The struggle was exhausting; the pain that endlessly lingered in his chest. He barely slept and he ate little food. The consequences of this were catching up to him and he was suffering them without break.

Harry saw Mr. Weasley notice him get too quiet. Mr. Weasley looked at him thoughtfully until he finally spoke.

"How would you like to repair Sirius' motorbike, Harry?"

He was not expecting that to come from Mr. Weasley. After a brief moment of confusion, Harry said yes.

Mr. Weasley got up from the leather couch, Harry from his armchair, and the pair entered the cluttered garage, where Harry saw the bike in the center of the space; a lash of grief whipped Harry across the chest as he laid eyes on it.

Mr. Weasley got busy searching for tools in the clutter, and Harry grabbed a cloth and started to clean the worn exterior. They exchanged few words, but when he would look up at Mr. Weasley he saw understanding in the man's eyes.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

The Weasley's lay motionless on damp, green earth. Shadows washed over them, but Harry could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their children's wide, lifeless eyes.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were the only ones left. They stood next to the assortment of bodies, faces frightened and pale. They were all immobilized, and so was Harry.

"Please, please, I beg you--" Harry spoke in between gasps, hot tears scorching his flesh as they slid down his face. "Please, don't kill them, take me, take me!"

Voldemort approached him, gliding across the ground. His lips morphed into a maniacal grin as green flew from his wand and hit Ginny. Harry watched her beautiful eyes dull, and soon after Hermione was hit by another blast of green and the two gracefully dropped to the floor.

Ron's pale blue eyes fixed on Harry.

Harry screamed and his lungs felt like they'd tear apart with the effort.

" _Please!_ PLEASE! TAKE ME, DON'T KILL HIM, PLEASE--"

Green struck his best friend as well, and Harry watched helplessly as his ginger friend collapsed among all of Harry's loved ones.

They were gone.

Harry had no one now.

He was alone.

The pain that wracked Harry's body was unbearable. Salty tears streamed from his eyes and he could taste them as Voldemort's laughter ringed in his ears.

_Take me,_ Harry begged Voldemort silently. Death was better than this. Harry had no control over his body anymore. Oh, the agony, he just could not bear it, he'd rather die, just take him, a meer human could not endure the grief that had swallowed him whole--

" _Harry!_ "

That didn't make sense. Ron was gone. Ron had left him just like all the others--

"HARRY!"

Harry gasped, shooting up in bed. His bedroom was dark, but the window radiated moonlight from the morning sky. Strong arms grabbed him securely as Harry hyperventilated. He was sweating all over and shaking from head to toe.

"Harry, you were shouting, I didn't know what to do!" Ron said in a rush, voice high. "W-What happened?"

Harry started to still and his breathing slowed. He didn't answer Ron for several seconds, the only sound being the crickets chirping on the windowsill.

Suddenly, a spur of the moment decision came to him.

"I want to go back to the Ministry with you today."

Ron stared at him, bewildered. "What? Harry -- you just woke up screaming--"

" _I want to go back to the Ministry!_ " Harry repeated with force.

Ron continued to look at him until he finally sighed. "It's five in the morning. We'll leave at seven."

Harry knew there was no chance he could fall back to sleep after that nightmare. After Ron left his room to explain what happened to the others Harry had woken up, Harry simply laid under the covers -- his eyes bearing into the ceiling but not seeing. His mind was elsewhere.

Time passed incredibly quickly, and two hours felt like five minutes. He pulled on his Ministry robes and descended the stairs to the kitchen, where Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the table and Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

"Ron, we ought to get going," Harry said.

The three of them jumped as Harry spoke, turning to him.

"Going? Going where?" Hermione asked.

"Harry wants to go back to the Ministry," Ron told her, looking slightly nervous that Hermione might have an outburst. To Harry's surprise, Hermione did not have one. She didn't say anything and her face even softened.

That was strange.

"Are you sure, dear?" Mrs. Weasley faced him, worry blossoming on her face.

"I'm sure. The Ministry is in need of reconstruction," Harry said.

"Well, take a bit of breakfast before you go," she pushed a plate of french toast on the table towards Harry.

Harry took a slice, and he winced as the food scratched his dry throat when he swallowed. He and Ron bid Mrs. Weasley and Hermione goodbye, and once outside the door Apparated together. Walls came crashing in on him at all sides -- he was suffocating, the pressure constricted his throat and he felt he would throw up from the weight--

Harry and Ron appeared in the crowded Ministry of Magic. They walked through the dark brick walls stretching up to the sky, and boarded one of the elevators. Harry felt many eyes on him, as he had been absent from work for weeks now; he hadn't been in since early June, and now it was late August.

The elevator plunged downwards, and a calm, female voice rang out, "Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement".

The two left the lift and entered the room full of cubicles. As they passed them, each one had pictures of known Dark wizards covering the walls -- many had red X's over them, as they had been either killed or captured.

Harry busied himself in his small cubicle, trying to forget about his horrifying nightmare. Every time an image of a dead loved one intruded his mind, he shoved it aside and resumed his work. He stamped papers, signed paperwork and focused on getting as much work done as possible.

Many people around him got up at noon for a lunch break, including Ron, but Harry remained at his desk, signing hundreds of forms. It was a bottomless pile, but Harry didn't mind, because it kept his mind from wandering back to undesirable territory.

Ron returned with an extra cup of tea for Harry.

Minutes merged into hours, and Harry's right hand cramped from the constant position of writing. He enchanted the quill to sign papers on its own, and transitioned to imprinting an 'APPROVED' or 'DECLINED' on papers with the bright red stamp.

"Are you coming, Harry?"

Harry set down his stamp and turned from the floating quill to Ron. "It's already evening?" Harry glanced to the window, which sure enough revealed an indigo sky.

"Yeah."

"I think I'll stay here a bit longer," Harry said.

Ron remained looking at him, a strange look upon his face that Harry couldn't read.

"Alright," Ron finally said. "I'll see you later, then."

Harry nodded. "Bye, Ron."

Ron walked out of the room and towards the elevators. Harry raised the stamp again, and fell back into his cycle of absentminded busywork.

As the hours continued to push on, more and more wizards and witches filed out of the room to return home. Eventually, it was just him and four other people in the Auror Department left working.

A yawn escaped Harry's mouth and he felt a sudden urge to rub his eyes. He looked to the watch on his wrist, which read 5:21am. How had it already gotten so late?

Without warning, a hand slapped two letters onto Harry's desk.

"Molly's owled me _twice_." Kingsley's deep voice said. "For Christ's sake, Harry, you've been here for twenty two hours. Get some rest or I will personally through your 'chosen' arse over my shoulder and toss you into the floo."

Harry turned back to the letters, sighing.

He couldn't win this battle.

The slapping of his shoes echoed against the floor in the silent building as he took the lift back to the main level. He departed the Ministry and Apparated; after the squeezing sensation that always came with this type of transportation, he arrived at the snowy front porch of the Burrow and he pushed the door open.

To Harry's shock, Hermione was sitting at the table, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a mug of hot cocoa.

"Hermione? What are you doing up?"

Hermione jumped and turned to him, apparently not expecting to have seen him either.

"I had a nightmare," she said, wrapping her fingers around the cup tightly.

"Oh," Harry breathed. Not knowing what to say, he made to go up the stairs.

"You're not the only one that dreams about what happened," Hermione told him, and Harry stopped before the first step. "You don't have to go through this alone."

"I'm fine," Harry lied, and his stomach recoiled at how blatantly false that was.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry didn't move. He heard the chair scrape against the floor and Hermione's footsteps approaching him.

Her gentle hand took his shoulder and faced him towards her. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, he met eyes with her, and saw sympathy and love in her complexion.

"You downplay things much too often, Harry," she whispered, but with a purpose in her voice. "It's okay to not be okay."

His emerald eyes gazed into her mocha ones. He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed, because he suspected that she was _researching_ whatever the hell was happening to him. That would explain her abnormally calm demeanor that morning when Harry wanted to go back to work after everything that happened that night.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

"Of course," Hermione said compassionately. "Now, go get some sleep," Hermione ordered, dropping her hands to her sides.

Harry ascended the stairs to his bedroom; he heard Hermione mutter " _Nox_ " and the two of them became bathed in darkness.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

Harry was roused by the loud chatter outside his bedroom. He rubbed his eyes, shielding them from the pale light shining through the window.

It was September first.

Today he would be going to Hogwarts.

Harry sleepily dragged himself out of bed, pushed his glasses onto his face, and fumbled inside of his dresser for some clean clothes. He pulled on a gray hoodie, washed out jeans, and black sneakers. He hauled his suitcase out of his room and down the stairs into the kitchen, which was bustling with people preparing.

He saw Ron helping Hermione pack her final school things into her trunk, one arm around her shoulder and the other assisting her as she anxiously checked and double checked everything she had packed.

"Hey, it's fine, you've got it all here," he heard Ron assure her quietly.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, smiling into his kiss. They noticed Harry after they pulled apart and waved at him. Harry grinned at the pair, then turned away.

He caught eyes with Ginny, who was standing by her own school trunk. The air left his lungs as he absorbed her breathtaking appearance. Her luscious ginger hair flowed down her shoulders and she raised a glowing face to him. She gave him her radiant smile, and it was with great difficulty he looked away from her. He couldn't hurt her again.

"Everyone ready?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang, glancing from Ron and Hermione, to Ginny, and finally Harry. "Let's be off then!"

The four followed Mrs. Weasley through the front door and onto the porch.

"Alright, we'll be Apparating to King's Cross, but make sure to Apparate at the side of the building where we won't be seen," Mrs. Weasley told them.

Firmly gripping the handle of his suitcase, Harry closed his eyes and focused on King's Cross station. The customary sensation of squeezing that came with Apparition pulsed through his body, constricting his lungs and attacking him at all angles--

He arrived at the side of the building, where Ron, Hermione and Ginny shortly joined him and Mrs. Weasley. The group entered the train station and pushed through the crowd of people to platforms 9 and 10. One by one, they ran at the barrier and emerged in Platform 9 ¾ on the other side. Harry immediately heard whispers of his name and felt stares cutting at him as he walked with the group.

"Hermione, Ginny, you two should get on the train," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging each of them as she spoke.

Ron and Hermione embraced, and Harry was left to Ginny. It was agonizing to look at her and not be able to do the same thing his best friends were doing.

"Bye, Harry," Ginny looked directly into his eyes, and his heart flourished at the sound of her voice.

"Bye, Ginny," Harry said with a painful smile.

Hermione gave Harry a quick hug as Ron and Ginny exchanged goodbyes, and finally the two girls were boarding the train.

"Boys, you'll be Apparating into Hogsmeade, where you can walk into the castle and take you up to the staff dormitory. It'll be quicker that way," Mrs. Weasley explained to Harry and Ron.

Once again, the three of them Apparated and appeared in Hogsmeade; the familiar buildings wore blankets of snow and warm glows radiated from the windows. The pair walked down the gravelly path and up the hill to the castle, the only sound being the crunching of the flawed trail beneath them. Harry focused his eyes on his sneakers dragging through the earth, but he could still feel the weight of the school beating against his back.

Harry and Ron entered the castle and Harry was forced to tear his eyes from his shoes. He gazed at the nostalgic interior of Hogwarts castle. A wave of anguish crushed him and stole the air from his lungs. The place he called home was now connected to the suffering and mourning of the war.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked to find the voice of Professor McGonagall, who was approaching them in her elegant fashion.

"Call me Harry," he told her, feeling a smile invade his face.

Professor McGonagall returned one. "Boys, welcome back to Hogwarts. If you would follow me to the staff dormitory, where I will direct you to your sleeping room we have prepared for you."

The two tried to keep up with Professor McGonagall's pace as she turned countless corners and glided down endless stairs. An ache was creeping into his feet by the time Professor McGonagall had said "Magpies" and they were entering the dormitory for the Professors.

The room was circular and comprised of many misshapen stones; deep navy drapes concealed the light filtering through the windows. A fireplace crackled in front of several plush couches, where Harry recognized a few teachers from his years of schooling.

"This is the room in which you and Mr. Weasley will be staying for the next few days," Professor McGonagall told them, pushing open a door that revealed a small room with two four poster beds.

"You can just call me Ron, too."

Professor McGonagall chuckled. "Old habits die hard," she said, beaming at them. Harry saw a gleam of sympathy in her eyes as the fire flickered.

"You two have done so much for this school," she said softly. "It's time you let the castle take care of you."

It was one of the rare times Professor McGonagall had been personal with him. He nodded with a thankful smile, not knowing how to put his feelings to words.

"The Gryffindor password is 'Flibbertigibbet'. I'm assuming you two will want to be there at one point.

"Well, enjoy yourselves," she finished, sliding past them.

The two boys dropped their trunks by their beds, and de ja vu washed over Harry. It was identical to what they usually did every year at Hogwarts -- except this time it was different. They wouldn't be staying all term; Harry's heart was nearing destruction; the drapes around his four poster were not scarlet but a calm, neutral shade.

It was just like usual.

But so very different.

"Let's go see Hermione?"

Harry turned to Ron's face, which was contorted in uncertainty; he awaited Harry's response.

"I think I'll just stay here.. er.. maybe look around a bit," Harry said slowly.

Understanding traveled from Harry's eyes, and he watched it enter Ron's pale blue eyes. The two looked at each other for ages, communicating silently, until Ron nodded and left through the open door. Before Harry could settle, another figure walked through the entrance.

"Neville!"

Harry jumped to his feet, his expression giving away his surprise.

"Yeah, it's me, Harry!"

"What-what are you doing here? Are you returning to school?"

"I'm a Professor. Herbology," Neville told him, grinning. "Professor Sprout retired. My grandma's thrilled, she says I'd do better working here than finishing my schooling. She thinks I'm really staring to honor my parents!"

"That's fantastic!" Harry exclaimed as Neville swelled with pride. "That's great, Neville!"

"Thanks, Harry! Actually, before you go, I was wanting to ask you something."

Harry's eyes darted away from the door and back to Neville. "Hmm?"

"I was hoping -- perhaps sometime during Christmas break -- maybe it would be okay if I joined you on one of your visits to Teddy?" Neville asked.

Harry was slightly taken aback. He had never expected Neville to want to see Teddy with him.

"Come-come see Teddy?"

"I don't mean to overstep, it's really fine if you don't want me to --"

"No, no, Neville, I'd love you to!" he assured him, and Neville's whole body loosened. "Teddy would love it too. I'll owl you about it near Christmas."

Neville's hazel eyes shined with delight. "Thanks, Harry!"

"Of course," Harry walked past him, smiling back at him.

Once he was out of Neville's eye sight and back in the corridor, he relaxed his face and breathed.

Smiling had become increasingly exhausting.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

Harry found himself standing on a pebbled platform and knocking on a large, rosewood door. A massive man with a hefty, dark beard opened the door, and beamed at Harry when he realized who had arrived at his doorstep.

"'Arry!" Hagrid exclaimed, crushing Harry's ribs with his enormous hug. "Harry, i'ts so good ter see yeh, my boy!"

"You too, Hagrid!" Harry squeezed out of his lungs, a round smile forming that resembled his young self.

No matter how difficult, he could always smile with Hagrid.

"I'm glad yeh could make it!" Hagrid finally released him, and Harry felt the floor beneath his feet again. "It's been a whil' since yeh've come for tea."

"It has," Harry agreed, shutting the door behind him. Hagrid's hut was still just as it was during Harry's years at Hogwarts; the fireplace stood quiet, the furniture was double the size, and Fang sprung from the couch to lick every inch of Harry.

"I've already brewed it," Hagrid told him cheerfully, dropping into one of the chairs at the table.

Harry took a seat across from him, and Hagrid hastily took the kettle and filled two giant cups. Harry took one with thanks.

Hagrid spoke after guzzling half of his tea. "So, you been alrigh', 'Arry?"

"I've been better," Harry said.

"I know," Hagrid sighed. "The war's taken it's toll on all o' us. Though, prob'ly most on yeh, yer the one that defeated him!"

Harry nodded, looking at the table's rustic surface.

"Just know I'm here for yeh, always. Okay?" Hagrid's voice broke with the last word.

Harry's eyes returned to Hagrid, and he saw tears glistening in the creases of Hagrid's eyes.

"I know," Harry replied, and Hagrid wiped his eyes. "I know. I really appreciate it, Hagrid."

Hagrid wore a tremulous smile, collecting himself. "Of course, 'Arry, of course."

Hagrid drained his cup sloppily, and Harry took another sip as well, reminiscing in all the times he had sat in this exact spot. Witnessing Norbert emerge from an egg, trying to save Buckbeak from execution, retrieving the memory of horcruxes from Slughorn, and just drinking tea with Ron and Hermione and talking to Hagrid. Remembering the simpler, happier times was soothing and lifted a weight from his chest.

"'Arry?" Hagrid ended the silence, instantly taking Harry's attention.

"Hmm?"

"I need to work in the patch," Hagrid confessed. "The pumpkins are needing 'sum work. But if you need me or need teh talk, they can wait--"

"No, no, it's alright, Hagrid," Harry told him. "Actually, if you don't mind, I can just sit outside while you work.. take a minute."

"That would be great, 'Arry," Hagrid grinned, pushing his chair back. "Fang can keep yeh company."

Harry followed Hagrid's huge figure out onto the grounds, and stopped a few feet away from the lines of pumpkins. Harry lowered himself to the ground as Hagrid tended to the patch. Fang arrived shortly after, sat next to him, and rested his head on Harry's knee. Fang's eyes struggled to stay open, and finally gave in and drifted shut.

Harry felt a state of peace and calm he had not experienced in a very long time. Harry stared past Hagrid trimming his garden, past the border of the Forbidden Forest, and into the distance without seeing. He listened to the rustle of the tall trees, the soft thuds of Hagrid's wide boots, and the muted wind whistling against the pale sky above him.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

It was Harry's fourth day at Hogwarts.

He had spent the first half of his stay removing himself from his fractured mind; visiting Hermione with Ron to play exploding snap or chess, talking to Neville in the staff dormitory about Hogwarts and his teaching career, and just reading a book so he could be with somebody else's thoughts (Hermione was thrilled to hear this news).

When it came to Ginny, he would see her standing a few feet away in the Gryffindor dormitory as he sat with Ron and Hermione, or when he was walking down the halls by himself and she was passing by. Every time his gaze fell on her his heart leaped into action and he felt his legs would fail him. She would pierce him with her stare, awaiting a response from him.

He spoke to her through his eyes. His emerald irises would tell her that he was tired. His brain was slowly eating him away.

"I need time," said his eyes.

She would look back at him, head slightly tilted, with an unreadable expression.

"I understand," said hers.

And they would part ways.

But today was different. When the two met in a deserted corridor, she didn't wait to read what his eyes were saying. Ginny marched up to him in a blaze, and Harry stopped walking.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked, her pupils aflame.

Harry's mouth hung open momentarily, startled. "I, er -- I just need to get some.. rest." He stumbled upon his words, and landed on a weak excuse.

Ginny didn't speak. For many long seconds, she simply peered into the depths of his eyes. Without warning, she grasped Harry's arm and pulled it behind her.

"Ginny, what--"

She dragged him into the nearest door, and the two entered an empty classroom. Ginny slammed the door shut and turned back to him, her golden red hair whipping the air dangerously.

"Listen, Harry, I've been giving you space," her voice rang against the walls of his head and sent chills up his arms. "For days. But you can't isolate yourself forever."

Harry desperately wanted to turn away from her tortuous stare, but he was glued to her flaming form.

"I'm dealing with it," Harry mumbled.

"No, Harry, don't kid yourself. You're letting it control you," Ginny walked closer, mere inches away from him. "You don't have to do everything alone. We can help you. I can help you."

"You're better off without me. You shouldn't have to fix me."

"You don't need to be fixed, Harry. You just need support to get through what you're 'dealing with'. If you aren't going to let people in, I'm going to put myself right into your space, because I'll be _damned_ if you think I'm going to put up with that."

Harry looked up into her beautiful, determined face, sprinkled with freckles. Her deep brown eyes scorched his flesh, but he still somehow found comfort gazing into their complexity. Many different hues of color splashed into each other. She was perfectly gorgeous.

Suddenly, he kissed her. She responded, and he was in the clouds. The same spot he was transported to the first time he kissed her, when she had kissed him in the Burrow before his journey of hunting horcruxes, and every other time their lips had met as they just talked on the Hogwarts grounds. He was floating -- he was higher than he had been in what felt like years.

Finally, they broke apart, and Harry had to stop himself from gasping. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and he felt his face burning as well.

" _I missed you so much,_ " he breathed.

Ginny laughed with her radiant smile he loved, and gently pushed her hand into Harry's mess of jet black hair. "I missed you too, Harry."

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

His week at Hogwarts had passed rapidly. The rest of his visit had been spent doing several light things, but he did two things the most:

He had tea at Hagrid's often with Ron and Hermione, and having simple conversations as they did in their youth. The familiarity of these meetings grew a huge appreciation for his two best friends and Hagrid. He would never be able to express how thankful he was for them.

He also took time to catch up with Ginny on everything each of them had missed in the other's lives. Talking with Ginny was effortless and uncomplicated; Ginny didn't say anything with a hidden meaning, and he greatly appreciated the ease of just talking to her about anything. Every day they walked out onto the grounds and laid in the rich grass and taking turns speaking about their lives and what was happening. They had spent a few times in their sixth year talking after they started dating, but it was far too few times. They were only starting to fill in the amount of times they should have been together during the months spent in terror of Voldemort's rising.

The trunk clicked shut as the last of Harry's belongings was tucked away inside. It was time to return to the Burrow.  Harry hauled the trunk into the air, and then turned to face the room.

"You ready, Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, and with a final grunt he pulled his trunk to its feet.

The two filed out of the room and through the portrait hole, dragging their luggage in their dust as they walked through the corridors. They were leaving on a Tuesday, and most students were in their individual classes, so the path was nearly empty. There was an occasional stray who would gawk at Harry's scary and then hastily run off, but it was a sufficiently pleasant journey. Harry freed a hand from his pocket and rubbed his eyes with a yawn. Horrible images in his mind of green had kept him awake almost all night.

From the right, Professor McGonagall left the infirmary with a small vial of deep purple liquid in her hands. She caught side of Harry and Ron and she changed direction towards them, beaming. 

"Hello, boys, I just wanted to say goodbye before you left," she told them brightly. 

"Thanks for having us," Harry said.

"You two will always be welcome at Hogwarts," she said, almost absentmindedly, and when she finally focused on his face he watched a bit of joy leave hers. 

Harry suddenly felt self conscious of the dark bags under his eyes and the boulders resting on his eyelids.

"I've just picked up some sleeping draught from Madam Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall announced. "I'll send you some on your way."

With a flourish of her wand, she produced a flask. She uncorked the vial and poured a sample of the potion, and handed Harry the finished product.

Harry took the vial from her. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

"Of course, of course, now you should get going," she waved her hands dismissively.

The two boys said their goodbyes and parted. Harry saw Ginny waiting by the girls' lavatory, looking around. She finally met Harry's eyes and grinned. Harry glanced over at Ron, who's lips curved; he simply nodded an inch in approval. Harry raced towards her, and as soon as he was close to her his hand sought hers. Their hands melted into each other, two puzzle pieces finally meeting. Fingers intertwined, Ginny escorted Harry out of the castle and into the delicate sun.

 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

 

  _ **4 months later**_

 

Harry bounced the toy on the floor, and the stuffed lion soared through the air -- landing on the dinosaur in Teddy's grasp. The T-Rex pounced back, and the two animals had a brief tussle before Harry's lion collapsed in defeat. The dinosaur finally turned to Neville's goat, a smug gleam in its little black eyes, and the two began a duel.

Harry watched the battle with a small smile hiding on his lips. These three orphans were sitting on the floor in Andromeda's house, playing with Muggle stuffed animals, just a few days before Christmas.

A loud rip stung the air, interrupting Harry's doze.

"Hawwy! My dinosauw is bwoken!" Teddy cried, his scarce amount of hair turning a violent shade of purple.

"It's alright, teddy, we can fix him in a jiffy," Harry assured him. "Here, hand him to me."

Wiping his nose with one arm, Teddy handed the dinosaur over with the other. Harry laid it onto its back with care -- Teddy made sure everyone treated them with respect -- and withdrew his wand.

" _Reparo,_ " Harry declared, and the seam that had split in the middle of its belly reconnected.

Teddy grinned, and the cheer on his face spread to Harry instantly. Teddy grabbed the dinosaur and squeezed it, hugging as if he was seeing a friend again.

"Harry," Neville spoke. "Harry, you should probably head off to that Christmas party of yours."

"Already?" Harry frowned.

He turned to the large window behind him facing the front porch. The sky had become a dark indigo, scattered with twinkling stars. Each one mocked Harry's dread of going to a social party, where reporters would stick flashing cameras up his nose, and the guests would be gawking at the Boy Who Lived Twice. 

The stars wanted to shine. Harry did not.

Harry's shoulders fell as he sighed, and a hand patted his right.

"You'll be alright," Neville encouraged him. "I'll stay with Teddy a bit longer."

Harry spun back around to the two and nodded. He sat up on his knees and lifted Teddy into his lap. Teddy giggled as he was picked up, his hair morphing into a bright pink, and he held close to Harry's chest.

How would Harry ever leave this place?

Harry ruffled his few colorful strands of hair. "I'll come see you another day, bud."

Teddy's face saddened. "Awwh, but I want you to stay, Hawwy," he whined, exceptionally good at speaking so early in his life.

"Neville's going to play with you some more. I'll come back another time."

Teddy still looked at him doubtfully. Harry had taken two months to return for this play session, because he had been having gruesome nightmares daily and was being triggered into panic attacks constantly. However, with the help of Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the Weasley's, he was handling the green much better now.

"Very soon. I promise," Harry added sincerely.

Teddy looked reassured and grinned at him, revealing the stubs of his growing teeth. Harry carefully set his infant body on the ground, and walked to the hooks by the door, where his jacket resided. He pulled it over his back, called goodbyes to Teddy, Neville, and Andromeda in the other room, and shut the door behind him.

Harry prepared for the event quickly, as he was already running late. He Apparated to the Burrow and ducked inside, speeding to his bedroom. He changed out of his jeans and t-shirt, and into dark, straight robes. He pulled his dress shoes on in the doorway, and he Apparated once more.

As soon as the front of the clean building appeared, Harry's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He had worked  _so hard_ to control his PTSD, and surely the unwanted attention would release the monster that haunted him. His reluctant feet led him down the chilly path, the frigid air biting his exposed face.

Upon entrance, a gust of warmth blew over him and wiped his lungs empty. He barely had a chance to breathe before five reporters knocked him against the wall with their blinding cameras.

"Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter, what will you be doing for Christmas?"

"What is it like all these months after the war, Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter, where have you been until now?"

"I don't want--" Harry started.

"Where were you, Harry Potter?"

"With my godson," Harry answered bitterly. He wanted to get them to leave. "Excuse me, make way--"

"Your godson? The boy who's parents died? Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, Harry Potter?"

The names pierced his skin, and released a roar of fury from inside him. "What the hell?" he growled. "Let me through--"

"You miss them, yes?"

"Does the boy miss them?"

The relentless, vicious green was attacking him from every angle.

Harry was drowning.

He saw a wave of people approaching him, dressed in holiday attire. Harry looked up and realized they were fighting to get under the mistletoe next to him.

Rage calmed the anxiety momentarily. "I have a girlfriend," he said angrily. "Go away, please, let me go, please--" 

He was starting to hyperventilate, begging them to leave him be. He was dangerously close to the brink, and he didn't know how much more it would take for him to--

Suddenly, a voice stopped the chaos.

"Harry, there are much too many nargles in this area. Come with me."

Harry whipped around, and there was the pale blonde girl, wearing a scarlet dress with a massive bow.

"Luna," he grinned.

She was the exact person who could quiet the crowd and tame the beast. The monster was from nightmares, and Luna was from dreams.

Luna took his hand and gently pulled, leading him away from the baffled mob. She stopped and turned to him with a dreamy smile, her dress twirling with her.

"You look great, Luna!"

"You too, Harry," she said, almost absentmindedly.

"I can't believe it's been so long since we've talked," Harry marveled. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, I've been searching for another crumple-horned snorkack horn," she replied casually. "I would like one, and daddy's was destroyed, along with our house."

Harry nodded, suppressing his amusement. "What're you doing at this party? I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, I heard that you would be here, so I came," she told him simply. "It's been awfully lonely. I wanted to see a friend."

Harry turned to her, startled that she had come for him. "You came to see  _me_ _?_ "

"Yes. As you said, we haven't spoken in months."

"Blimey," Harry continued to look at her in awe. "Well, we'll definitely meet up more soon. Somewhere more enjoyable than... this."

Luna's silver blue eyes met his, and she said seriously, "Do you suppose you'd rather be here, or stuck on the bottom of the Hogwarts lake, surrounded by extraordinarily aggressive plimpies?"

Harry stared at her. She was still looking at him with a completely solemn expression.

Harry laughed. It was the most real laugh he'd had in months -- he threw his head back, closed his eyes, and was wracked with fearless, free laughter.

 

———————————————

 

_The darkness that haunted Harry was cruel, merciless, and suffocating._

_But with support, he could manage the green he loathed._

_Maybe, one day, he would sleep undisturbed._

_Maybe, one day, he would love his eyes again._

_Maybe, one day, he would have a life that wasn't controlled by his past._

_Maybe, with the help of the family Harry had built,_

_he would get through this._


End file.
